‘I don’t think it matters, now. I’ve had enough, Ames. I’ve given her my notice. Told her I’ll complete the work on the photography for this trip and once we’ve settled monies owing and I’ve worked my notice, I’m out. She can find some other mug to trail round after her, stroking her ego. I can’t do it any longer.’
Amy stared at him. She knew he’d been unhappy when they’d arrived back from the boat trip earlier in the day, that Billie had made the afternoon difficult for him – but it wasn’t like it was the first time. To be honest, the majority of this trip had run more smoothly where Billie was concerned than many other trips they’d taken together, and Malcolm had coped with those. He’d always managed to retain a sense of humour about their boss – or at least that was how it had seemed.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Ames. I know what you’re thinking. But this time it felt way too personal – it was her having a problem being seen in my company, rather than her kicking off at someone else, or about Kelly, or whatever. I thought I could cope with the snide comments. Just thought it was Billie being Billie. And Ihavebeen able to cope, but today…’ He looked utterly defeated. ‘What’s that saying – death by a thousand cuts? Finally realising what she really thinks of me is like all those cuts landing at the same time. And today’s cut is the final straw.’
Amy couldn’t help grinning at his mixed idiom, and it prompted the edge of a smile in return.
‘That’s why I do the photos, and you do the words,’ he conceded. ‘Or rather, that’s why Ididthe photos. I’m sorry, Ames, but I mean it. I’m done. I’ll have to find another way to pay the bills, and you’ll have to find another schmuck to take her photo.’
Amy squeezed his arm. ‘How about you take some time to think this through?’
Malcolm shook his head. ‘I’ve done all the thinking I need to. I’m sorry, because it’s going to make the remainder of this trip tricky, but I have to do this. I have to reclaim some semblance of happiness in my life, and I’m not going to find it being baited by Billie for the next ten years.’
Amy sank back in the chair, nodding. ‘I mean, I’d be lying if I said I’m not upset, because I am. I love working with you, Malc, always have.’
Malcolm pursed his lips. ‘And I’ve loved working with you, too. I’m going to say one more thing, and then I’m going to take my pudding to my room and have a go at enjoying it. After all, Billie suggested food is the only thing I’m ever likely to manage to have a meaningful relationship with, so…’
Amy frowned. ‘That’s not true, Malcolm.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Anyway, this is what I want to say. And it’s something I think I was in real danger of forgetting for myself. This is only a job, Amy. Yes, the travelling is great and exciting and all. Yes, you get to stay in great locations and eat fantastic food. But this isn’t real life. It’s like a glossy, shiny impersonation of real life. Like one of those films where people believe they’re living their lives, feeling and thinking and deciding what happens, having a wonderful time. But in fact they’re comatose, attached to a computer who is faking those experiences for them. Usually while their bodies are being used in some terrible futuristic atrocity. And that last bit isn’t at all relevant, but the rest of it is. Do you see what I mean?’
Amy smiled. ‘Kind of.’
Tad re-entered the dining room, a jug of raspberry sauce in his hand. Amy tracked him as he circled the guests, checking who wanted more. She pulled in a deep breath.
‘Don’t miss out on a real life – that’s what I’m saying.’ Malcolm climbed to his feet and took hold of his dessert plate. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Everything OK?’ Tad said as he reclaimed his seat next to her. ‘Where did they go?’ He gestured at Billie and Malcolm’s empty chairs.
Amy sighed, picking up her bag. ‘Long story. But I think I need to try to find Billie – she’s upset, and she’s headed into Riva. I need to check she’s OK.’
Tad’s expression faltered. ‘I hoped we could go and get a drink – Matteo said he’s happy to do the clearing up and the clean-down…’
‘I know, and I’m sorry, but Malcolm just quit, and I don’t think Billie will be dealing with it well.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ he said.
Amy didn’t want to tell him there was every possibility Billie would already be halfway down a bottle of something with a high alcohol content, and that it was likely that she would turn on anyone getting close enough. Amy didn’t want Tad to have to experience that; nor did she think him seeing Billie in that frame of mind would be something her boss would want, either.
‘It’s probably better if I go alone,’ she said. ‘Can I call you, once I know what’s what?’
‘Aye. Call me. Maybe we can meet somewhere in town once you’ve sorted her out?’
Amy smiled, agreed, then abandoned the rest of the meal, leaving Casa del Cibo and heading for the lake. She had no idea where Billie might be, so it was by pure luck that she ran into her at the very first bar she came to. Or perhaps it wasn’t luck at all, more that Billie had taken refuge in the closest hostelry.
As Amy had suspected, Billie was already knee-deep in a bottle of local wine. She supposed she should be grateful it wasn’t gin, or vodka, but Billie remained defiant as Amy approached, pouring another haphazard glass of wine and downing it.
‘Malcolm told me,’ Amy said, sliding into a chair opposite Billie.
‘Bastard. That man has no idea how lucky he is. Ungrateful sod. Good riddance, I say.’
‘You don’t mean that, Billie. You and Malcolm go way back. Maybe with a decent night’s sleep and some time to reflect, he’ll change his mind.’
‘Don’t care if he does or not. He wants out, he’s out. Men are all the same, flaky bastards the lot of them.’ Billie took hold of Amy’s hand, her hot, clammy fingers tight against Amy’s. ‘But you won’t leave me, will you? I couldn’t bear it if you abandoned me, too. I think of you as the younger sister I never had – I mean, I have a younger sister, but I hate her, and you’re so much more…’ Billie didn’t finish the sentence, hiccupping instead. She pushed her glass away before leaning in again. ‘You’re important to me, Amy. Say you won’t leave me, too. Swear it to me. Please.’
Amy tried to withdraw her hand, but Billie’s grip was like iron. The woman was being overdramatic, and Amy shouldn’t be fazed by her. Like she’d done in the past, Amy should agree with her, talk her down from her precipice. Chances were Billie wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, or she’d laugh it off. And yet, this evening Amy didn’t want to fold to Billie’s will so easily. She didn’t want to promise anything of the sort.
‘You and me, Amelia – we’re a team. We can find another photographer, maybe a younger, better-looking one than Malcolm… how about that? Someone we can both crush on. But I need to know you won’t ever leave me.’
